


No Aphrodisiac Like Loneliness

by uglywombat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angst, Brief Mention of Child Death, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Smut, Unhappy Ending, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, brief description of medical procedures, mention of child death, mention of spousal death, sharing a partner, sharing is caring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-25 01:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19735285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: A drunken party leads you down a steep path, pulled between two forces, two friends.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> This is heavily inspired by "No Aphrodisiac" by The Whitlams and the "Six Steamy Sentences" challenge. The prelude is my entry into the challenge. The actual story parts in Part Un.

Teeth and lips clash as you both battle, skirt haphazardly shucked up against your waist as your bare flesh is pressed against the old bar’s exterior wall, Bucky’s pace relentless.

Filthy promises and delicious rewards whispered into your ear as his cock drags along your walls, stretching you like only he can; nails digging deep into the strong muscles of his shoulders.

He silences your pathetic whimpers with tempting threats as your skin drips with soft, salty beads of sweat, the party raging on inside, guests oblivious to the salacious dance you are entangled in.

From the shadows, you can just make out those beautiful, doughy azure eyes eagerly watching, his hand wrapped around his cock, feathery gasps dripping from his lips as he watches.

Bucky knows he is watching, it’s part of their little game; a competition to see who can take it one step further, who could fuck you the hardest, the dirtiest, who can tear the highest, longest orgasm from your poor, wretched body.

Bucky grips your jaw, your keen gasp egging him on as he turns his head to the shadow, “Come for me, Stevie, and I will let you eat our baby girl’s pussy like you’ve been begging all night.”


	2. Un

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning.

Asgardian liquor guzzled, the horrors of a mission gone horribly wrong peeled away with every sip. It was intoxicating. The stiflingly hot air paired with the flickering heat from the fire pit, did little to chip away the suffocating feeling dragging him down. The Asgardian liquor though? That was helping. 

Leaning against the tree, Steve surveyed the party. Tony had promised a party and had, of course, delivered. Gourmet hot dogs, the best hamburgers on the east coast, imported ice-cold beer, sparklers, smores… It was over the top and pure Tony Stark.

At the bar, he could see Clint being bested in a drinking game against Natasha and Sam; a competition of his own making. Bruce watched on from the sidelines, ready to intervene on the already swaying archer. 

Further down the bar sat Bucky, sulking over his half-drunk Asgardian liquor, lost in his own demons. 

And then he saw you with Wanda, his heart caught mid-beat. Your cheeks flushed from the heat, a sweet grin, small beads of sweat dancing along your skin, your legs… oh, those shorts are sinful. He wanted nothing more than to run his fingers over your skin, tasting you. 

Your eyes flicker to his and he smiled shyly, ashamed that you had caught him looking. The twinkling in your eyes only fed his embarrassment and he made his way over to Thor. 

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you watched Steve sulkily meander over to Thor who sat by the firepit. You had enjoyed the feeling of his eyes running over your body, but his embarrassment bruised your ego.

Wanda excused herself, going to find Vision to call it a night, and you found yourself alone. It had been a stressful day; countless injuries to see to, your head swimming with dark images. Another ice-cold beer calling your name, you made your way to the bar, ready to lose yourself to the night. 

Bucky sat hunched over his drink, his fingers slowly dancing along the bartop. Sensing his melancholy, you made your way over to him and sat beside him on the empty barstool. You could immediately smell the Asgardian liquor seeping from his pores, mixed with the masculine, woody aroma of his aftershave and sweat. His hair was swept up into a low bun, his skin pebbled with sweat. 

“Doc,” he drawled and threw back the meady smelling liquor. 

You hated seeing him like this. The mission had been rough, but he and Steve were taking their failure particularly badly. “Hey Bucky,” you said, your hand softly resting on top of his flesh arm. “Are you having a good night?”

And although he was aware that you already knew the answer, he said, “Dandy,” in as sarcastic a tone as he could before helping himself to what little liquor remained in the bottle.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, of which there had been an abundance or the fresh flirty banter from that afternoon, but the familiar need in your core sang to you. You grabbed his hand and pull him from the barstool. “Dance with me Barnes,” you pleaded, batting your eyelashes playfully, just the way he liked. 

His lip caught between his teeth, he happily obliged, his warm torso pressed against your back as you made your way to the crowded dance floor. You could feel his eyes practically undressing you.

The evening air scorching, the summer heat unabated, mixed with the heat from the fire pit, didn’t hinder Bucky pressing his body against yours. His hands gripped your hips as you draw your arms around his neck. 

You’ve been here before; slow, seductive dancing, teasing and taunting before stolen kisses in the shadows, chasing away your monsters. Your flirty banter had slowly been shifting towards its climax these last few months. It was only a matter of time before you would both give in to the fall you had been dicing with. 

His nose brushed your hair as you swayed to the music, the alcohol buzzing through your body, his intoxicating aroma overwhelming your senses. “You always smell so sweet.”

“You always smell like a man,” you huskily teased, dragging your teeth against your lip. “It’s like a damn sauna out here.” 

What had been an overwhelming feeling of intoxication ebbed slowly into burning desire, his hands adeptly teasing you. God, he knew your buttons so well. Months of goading and moments stolen in locked rooms, Bucky had memorised each and every one of your sighs. He played them like a melody. 

You moved in time with the slow tune, though you couldn’t hear the music on account of the vibrations of your heart ripping through your chest. His prodigious hands sizzling against your bare skin as he brushed his nose against your hair, the bridge of your nose.

With your cheek against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat, steady and stable. In the distance, you could see Steve watching you both silently, Tony wittering at his side. The disappointment on his face read like a novel, but your attention was brought back to Bucky as his hands grazed the circumference of your arse.

A victorious smirk painted his lips as you mewled at his touch. You could only gasp a soft baiting as his hands trailed up your exposed legs. It’s the only consent he needed, his hand encasing yours and pulling you through the crowd. 

You barely reach the door of the compound before he pressed you against the wall, his lips on yours, urging you to yield. An unceasing battle to dominate the other, hands greedily grasping for comfort. 

Steve wallowed, the liquor losing its finesse and the party a vexatious drone lodged in his ear. He was done for the night, his bed was calling him. It was hotter than Hades and he knew he would find some comfort in the cool air conditioning of his shared apartment. Bucky had long disappeared, you were nowhere in sight and Tony was beginning to grate on his crumbling facade. That was his cue to call it a night.

Whilst the air conditioning had struggled to function during the day, it was now a welcomed relief to the blistering conditions outside. 

The night called for a cold shower, the image of your exposed legs burned in his memory. Steve had long desired you, cautious to overstep the professional boundaries he should respect. He was Captain America, he had morals and ethics. 

Crossing the threshold into the shared apartment, he knew something was amiss as he stood on Bucky’s shirt. Miffed at his friends’ apathy and incivility, he picked up the shirt as the resounding sound of gasps drew his attention to Bucky’s room. Prepared to berate his friend he stepped into the bedroom and immediately froze.

Bent over the Californian king bed, sheets were strewn and crumpled, Bucky nonchalantly pounding into you, his hands gripping the cheeks of your arse with force.

God, Steve wanted to turn on his heel and make scarce. He should not be here. He should not be seeing this. But he stood glued to the floor, entranced with the euphoric gape of your mouth, furrowed eyebrows as you gripped the bed for dear life. 

Your coupled moans, gasps, wails and sighs are a symphony he had never dared to imagine.

His cock was rock hard, but when Bucky pulled you back flush against his chest, his hands gripping your breasts, Steve nearly came in his pants like a teenager. 

Bucky slowed as he felt you still, his eyes drifting to the door to see Steve watching, his shirt hanging from his best friends’ hand.

Chuckling, Bucky slowly thrust up into you, his fingers expertly finding your clit as he maintained eye contact with Steve. Your eyes fluttered with his ministrations, your whimper mirroring the sag of your body. He was better than he had ever imagined. 

“Enjoying the show, Stevie?” Bucky’s voice was dark and wickedly auspicious. His eyes drifted down to the tenting in his friends’ pants. “Why don’t you come and sit on the bed buddy and touch yourself? You want to watch him, his hand on his cock, don’t you, princess?” 

Your eyes met Steve and he was deaf to your admission, his ears ringing with excitement and anxiety. 

They should not be doing this. Captain America should not be doing this.

And yet, Steve found himself sat against the headboard, hand wrapped around his cock. Beside him, you rode Bucky, your breasts dragging along his perfectly built chest, a metal hand cupping your cheek, the other gripping your hair. 

A perfect triad; all drowning out the incessant cacophony of suffering, agony, perturbation. Wild hands and lips perpetually grasping for common ground, silent empathy. Literally fucking away the angst. There was no judgement, no prayers, just a burial of emotions. 

And when all was said and done, three satiated bodies laid out on the bed chasing their breaths, confusion reigned. 

How could you come back from this?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really hope you enjoyed this.


	3. Deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio deals with the aftermath of their night together and comes to an arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we have a smutless chapter, but I promise there is more to come. I'm just gonna give you the proverbial load of sexual tension and teasing.
> 
> Over time we will also delve into their pasts, but that will be dispersed amongst ALL the porn. Because that's why we're all here right 😉

There was nothing a plate of pancakes couldn’t fix, according to your momma. Normally, you would agree wholeheartedly. But, as you picked at the perfectly fluffy, syrup-drenched pancakes, you couldn’t help but feel the guilt gnawing at your soul.

Beside you, Steve had barely touched the food on his plate; berries pushed around the syrup. Bucky, however, had just finished his third helping and was eyeing off Steve’s plate.

Waking up wedged between the two super soldiers should have been a dream come true. In reality, the hazy recollection of last night was slow coming and the embarrassment radiating off of Steve had been enough to destroy any hope of a sober re-enactment of last night’s activities.

The promise of pancakes was enough to keep Steve from taking refuge in the gym and you from drowning yourself in the mountain of paperwork you had dumped on your desk yesterday.

Bucky sighed frustrated with the silence, pushed his plate away and took Steve’s from him. “Were you going to finish those?”

The soft chuckle from your lips finally brought Steve’s eyes away from his lap and to you. He watched you push Steve’s plate back in front of him and pass your plate to Bucky.

“Last night…” Steve croaked. God, he wanted to curl into a ball and die or lock you in his room all day and waste the day away between the sheets.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Bucky said, his mouthful of pancakes again. “You and I both did a hell of a lot worse on tour.” Steve chuckled and your heart softened. “We were just letting off some steam and you just happened to come and join in on the party.”

A clap on his shoulder and Steve blushed bright red. You hated to see his internal battle play out on his face. “Bucky is right Steve,” you said, placing your hand under the table and resting yours on his thigh. “We can’t be ashamed. We’ve got enough guilt to live with.”

Steve’s eyes roamed your sad, reserved expression, a weak smile forming on your lips. Bucky watched you both intently, slowly chewing a mouthful of food.

“Bucky and I…” you tried to form the words, but God, Steve’s face broke your heart, “last night was the first time. I don’t... “ you sighed, the feeling of his hand squeezing yours was reassuring, “I don’t usually get drunk and just sleep around. Yesterday was tough. Not that what I went through comes close to what you both have…” You were wittering, but the floodgates were well and truly cracked. Steve and Bucky were your friends, couldn’t you be honest after everything that happened between you?

But you didn’t want to burden them. They were brimming with their own demons.

“Last night doesn’t change the way I feel about you both,” Steve reassured you, his hand holding yours tightly, “you’re still my friends. Always.”

Last night had been a mistake; Steve didn’t want you and Bucky was a moody pool of silence and frustration. Your throat tightening, the room was closing in on you. You pushed your chair back, mumbled a weak apology as the tears threatened to erupt, and left the apartment.

Neither Steve nor Bucky made an attempt to follow you, too lost in their own thoughts and sins.

“Last night shouldn’t have happened,” Steve said, his voice broken and eyes trained on his hands.

“Last night,” Bucky growled, dropping his fork onto the plate, “was not a mistake. If you’re going to be such a prude maybe next time knock before you come into a room. What we have was supposed to be between us, you inserted yourself.”

Steve watched his best friend storm out of the kitchen, the table a mess with untouched food and coffee. He blinked back the tears as he started the lengthy process of tidying up the physical mess left from their night together.

The emotional scars, however? Steve wasn’t sure they’d be able to move on from those.

It would be a week before your paths all crossed again. You’d lose yourself in the accumulation of paperwork on your desk, seeing to injuries or illness when required. Your whole being ached; you missed your friends, and you hated yourself for allowing things to escalate the way they had, drunk or otherwise.

A knock at your door pulled your strained eyes from the report you’d spent an hour accomplishing nothing on.

Nurse Smith smiled at you warmly. “Cap is in and refuses to see anyone.”

You’d heard that phrase a few times before, so with a roll of your eyes, you made your way down the hall to the private examination room.

Steve was sat on the examination bed, a towel pressed against a weeping gash above his eyebrow. He watched you silently as you closed the door and blinds, before standing before him and slowly moving the towel.

“It will heal itself,” he said pulling the towel from your hands, “I’ll be fine.”

“I need to clean it, you fool,” you snapped, taking the towel off of him and throwing it into the laundry hamper. “Besides, you know the protocol. Someone needs to see you, sign you off and fill out all the paperwork, which by the way is me. I hope it was worth it.”

You cleaned his wound in silence, gently washing away the blood, the gaping gash already beginning to heal itself thanks to the serum. It was hard to concentrate, his soft, inquisitive eyes following your every move, the heat from his body radiating off of him like a furnace.

Finally done, you ripped your gloves off and threw them into the medical waste bucket. Facing him, closer than you knew you should have been, you gently placed your hands on his. “What happened? Where is he?” You knew it was Bucky, only he would lay a hand on Steve and not join him in medical.

“I don’t know. We fought…” You raised your eyebrow incredulously. “It was about you. About us.”

You sighed and pulled your hands away, the guilt bearing down on you. His hands fell to your waist as you moved to leave the room. “I won’t be the reason your friendship implodes, Steve. I care about you both too much.”

“I want you, Doc,” he confessed, pulling you towards him, your hands daring to venture to his chest. “I’ve wanted you since that night in Egypt. But there are rules and I am expected to follow them.”

Your eyes were locked, both searching for an out and fighting the temptation to give in. “But what does Steve Rogers want? Because Steve Rogers, the man I get to call my friend, deserves to be happy.”

His eyes fluttered as your hands cupped his face. “My heart belongs to Peggy…”

“And I don’t want a relationship, Steve. I’ve been down that road before and I’ve been burnt. We can make each other happy though. Just let me make you happy.”

His eyes fell to your lips as he pulled you into the sweetest, most endearing kiss. He was light and soft, an earth-shattering juxtaposition to Bucky’s dark and wild omnipresence.

The air shifted as he pulled back and you watched him internally chastise himself. Your thumb found his plump lips and you gently wiped away the remnants of your lip balm. “Get out of your head Steve. I need you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

Steve sighed, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, digging deep, to be honest. “I can’t get that night out of my head. Seeing you with him. My skin burns at the memory of your hands on me.” His lips pressed a soft trail from your ear to your lips, his hands cupping your neck. “You’re on my mind all the time. Both of you.”

You chuckled, pressing your lips against his with a little more force. “I can’t get the image of you with your hand on your cock out of my head. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of you like that as I touch myself.” The gasp escaping his lips was intoxicating, your hands exploring his chest through his sinfully skin-tight t-shirt. “Bucky is right, we have nothing to be ashamed of. We are consenting adults and what you do behind closed doors is our business.”

Steve was a raging battle of heart, brain, and lust as he searched for your eyes. “I need time.”

You couldn’t hide the disappointment in your forced smile, your eyes crinkling at the faux emotions. “Of course. Take your time.”

Disappointment tortured you all day; Steve’s rejection, Bucky’s ongoing iron curtain. Sleep evaded you, tossing and turning as the ceiling fan blanketing you with tepid, suffocating air. Defeated, you got out of bed, slipped on your running shoes before leaving your assigned room.

The lake was beautiful this time of night. The moon hung high in the sky, reflected against the rippling water. You were not surprised to see Bucky skulking by the water, lost in his thoughts, leaning against the barrier of the dock.

Your eyes met under the faint light of the Edison lights circling the dock. Bucky didn’t apologise, he never does. Instead, he pulled you against his chest and ripped what little air you had in your lungs, his lips dominating yours.

“I missed you, princess,” his voice husky as his hands roamed your behind and back.

“Then don’t ghost me,” you snapped before dragging your teeth over his bottom lip. “You’re just as bad as Steve. Why can’t you be honest with me?”

He slammed your back against the docks’ frame, pinning your hands behind you and pressing his rock hard bulge against you. “That’s a little rich coming from you, sweetheart. I can smell how much you missed me and yet you didn’t seek me out either.”

How your flirty banter had escalated into the most delicious and dangerous jeering was lost on you, but you did not care. You’d now entered a new dimension of your friendship and you were not ready to back down.

You had wanted each other for so long, teasing and taunting for months on end, playing a dangerous game. And now, a small taste and you wanted more. No, needed more. Bucky did not want a relationship, and neither did you, you wanted an escape and some fun. You needed to forget the monsters lurking in your closet, just for a little while.

But then there was Steve. Dear, sweet, confused Steve. How could you continue on as friends after a vulnerable night of passion? When you had willingly taken part in your self-destructive bed games.

“What happened today, Buck?” His defenses immediately rose, and he backed off with a roll of his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. Your little friend told me enough.” Bucky scoffed his hands on his hips. “Please don’t fight because of that night. It’s not worth the price of your friendship.”

The sound of a twig snapping brought your attention to the approaching tall, built figure. Steve stepped into the light, his face was ridden with guilt and shame.

Bucky immediately tensed, withdrawing further away. Shaking your head you made to leave, “You two need to talk.”

“Please,” Steve begged, his hand softly pressing your forearm, “stay. We all need to talk.” You looked to Bucky, who watched on, his forehead furrowed. You each stood opposite each other, leaned against the railing of the dock, a safe distance between you. Steve sighed before he began. “Firstly, I would like to apologise. I shouldn’t have shut you both out.” He cleared his throat, his eyes trained on his shoes. “I was a coward.”

Bucky scoffed and you shot him an almighty glare. “We were all cowards,” you reassured Steve, Bucky shifting uncomfortably in your periphery. “We could have handled this better. We need to be more honest with each other, as friends.” Again, Bucky scoffed. “You know what, fuck you Bucky. I’m scared okay. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you both in my life.”

His eyes softened at your confession. “I’m sorry, doll.”

Steve steeled himself. “I know none of us are looking for a relationship. We are not in a place where we could be in a healthy relationship with anyone, let alone each other. We’ve been through too much.” He watched his two best friends nod sadly nod in agreement. “But I can’t get that night out of my head. It was a few hours of peace from the constant noise in my head.”

“What happened between us,” Steve continued, “I don’t want it to stop.”

“So you want to share her?” Bucky asked teasingly.

“I’m not a toy, you antiquated pig,” you snapped at Bucky.

Steve chuckled, his smile finally reaching his eyes, for the first time in weeks. It was like old times; bantering and bickering. “If we decide to go ahead with this we have to agree that there can be no emotions.”

“And if you fall in love with me, pal?” Bucky teased. "I mean, princess here is already head over heels for me." You rolled your eyes and scoffed dramatically.

“Then we call it quits and continue on as friends.”

Your forehead burrowed and you wrapped your arms tightly around your waist. “What happens if we can’t come back from this?”

Steve boxed you in against the railing, his hands cupping his face, lips a breath away from yours. “Then we had better make it worthwhile.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, liking and commenting. I love to hear your thoughts. They honestly make me a better writer. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment or chat with me! I luvva chat. Come see me on Tumblr. I have a Fic Recommendation page that has a shit tonne (as we say in Australia) of some amazing works.


	4. Trois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The different ways in which our trio deal with grief. Or perhaps not so different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some very brief mentions of medical procedures and a child's death. There's no in-depth description other than this is angsty. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy x

Bucky was the first to seek you out after a particularly brutal mission that had seen you on your own for nearly a month. 

You were head deep in your phone, ready to clock off when you felt a rough pair of hands grasp your arm and hurl you into a filing room, your mouth instantly pressed against Bucky’s. He pushed you against the shelving unit, boxes of files threatening to fall on top of you. 

The taste of copper drew your attention to the bloodied grazes adorning his honeyed skin. “Jesus Buck, at least let me clean you up before you try and fuck me in the closet.” 

“No time, doll,” he groaned, his hands moving with great urgency to pull your scrubs down, but your hands stopped him.

“I’m not having sex with you in the closet because in about two minutes Jacqueline is going to come in here to file away today’s paperwork. Besides, you stink like shit and I have standards.”

“Standards?” Bucky smirked, quirking his eyebrow before his hands deftly ran along your pouty lips. “Didn’t stop you that night in Morocco. You were practically begging for it.”

You bit your lip and cupped his hardened cock through his pants. “Well, Bucky, you can either join me in the shower at my place or you can enjoy a long, lonely night with your hand.”

You exit the room, watching him closely, eyebrow raised before he stalked after you to the elevator. The doors hadn’t even begun to close before he is on you, pushing you against the wall. Rough teeth, greedy tongue, hands clutching for something tangible. You knew he would be rough tonight, but you would welcome it because you both had demons knocking on your door.

The door dinged and you pushed Bucky away as the doors opened, several agents moving into the confined space. Evasive, taciturn, glacial Bucky returned, his hands shielding his prominent erection. The tension was palpable as the agents surrounding you made small talk, Bucky rigid against the wall of the elevator, his eyes constantly observing and glaring. 

Bucky rarely showed his soft side, his kind, caring, charming, satirical self. The first time you had truly met Bucky, aside from his super-soldier persona, had been a drunken night at a party. You’d danced the night away, laughing and running from the overwhelming grief you were neck-deep in. He was like another world you could take refuge in before returning to hell.

The chemistry and coquetry had been organic and sedate, until that night in Morocco. The pain was still raw. That mission had been nothing but brutal from the get-go. You had literally had to start Steve’s heart with your bare hands and had watched as Bucky narrowly missed been blown up. It had brought back all the dark memories of New York and Loki, long before you had come to work for Stark. 

You were weak, defective, fervent and you cracked. You locked yourself in your room, drank more than you were willing to admit to, and found yourself outside Bucky’s door. You begged him to fuck you, then and there, but he had said no. You both confessed your desires for each other the next morning over baked eggs.

That had been the catalyst for your dangerous game. A ticking time bomb counting down to that fateful night with Steve. 

You came to your senses as F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced your arrival on the accommodation level of the facilities and Bucky was dragging you out by your hand past your audience. His hand clutched the back of your neck as you made your way down the hallway to your apartment, a firm reminder of who was in charge. He scented your hair and neck as you fought with the fingerprint security system beside your door. 

The approving beep sounded and before you could push the door open Bucky kicked the door open and slammed it shut. “Get in the goddamn shower before I fuck you right here on the floor,” he all but growled in your ear, shucking off his combat suit. 

As enticing as the thought of him taking you on the floor was, and it was incredibly tempting, you desperately needed to feel hot water wash the day from you and Bucky smelt like a man who had never been introduced to personal hygiene. It set your OCD on fire, as well as the juncture of your thighs.

“Don’t you dare leave that dirty suit on my floor,” you teased pulling up your scrubs to reveal your lace bralette. You chuckled as Bucky tore off the suit, opened your door and threw it out into the hallway.

“You have thirty seconds darling,” he threatened, his teeth grazing his lips as his eyes trailed over your exposed body, “and if I catch you before that shower is on I’m going to fuck you on whatever surface we land on.”

He gave chase and you ran for the bathroom, giggling as his footsteps neared. You just made it to the shower and turned the water on as he closed in on you. A surprised squeak drips from your lips as he pulled you up into his arms and walked you into the shower, your pants still on. 

His kiss was heated and bellicose, his hands seizing what he could in his eagerness. You fought to remove your bralette, breaking the kiss momentarily, his stormy dark eyes boring into yours. The hot water pelted against your skin, slowly stripping away the numb layer you wore. The feeling of his exposed cock pressing against your overly dressed center was agonizing. 

His hands moved to tear your scrub pants, his breath shallow. “Don’t you fucking dare, Bucky Barnes,” your hands fought against his but he was too strong. And whilst you were both impressed and unabashedly turned on, you couldn’t help but mourn the ruined pants and destroyed underwear. “You piece of shit,” you hit him against his chest, “how would you like it if I went around ripping your clothes?”

Bucky chuckled as he entered you in one, well-rehearsed move, your back arching against the tiles of the shower. “I would not oppose,” he smirked before taking your taut nipple between his teeth. “And given how fucking wet you are I don’t think you really mind at all.”

You had to cling on for dear life as he fucked you, water streaming down your bodies, damping down years of sins and bad deeds, self-loathing, fury, and loss. 

As his cock luxuriously teased that wonderful clandestine gem deep within your channel, you couldn’t contain the mewl that would only spur him on. You didn’t want this to end so soon. You wanted to waste the night away exploring each other between the sheets, prolonging your return to reality.

“Doll, I can feel you holding back,” his husky voice ran through the steamy enclosed space, his hot breath tickling your lips as his own hovered above yours. “If you can’t come on my cock before I fill you up then you won’t get to come all night, and I do not plan to call it a night after we are done here.”

Well, fuck.

Perhaps it was his deliciously foreboding warning or his sharp, deep, focused threats that sent you plunging over the precipice, you honestly didn’t care. Your orgasm was all-consuming. You didn’t flinch as Bucky spilled inside of you, his fingers gripping your waist with such force you’d be forced to wear dark blue welts for days to come.

The tenderness he showed you was surprising. Soft kisses, tender caresses as you cleaned each other, washing the day’s sins clean from your body. 

Bucky did not leave your apartment the next morning after breakfast. In fact, he didn’t leave for three days, forcing you to call in sick. You christened every surface of your apartment until he was finally called back to training forcing your return to reality and the monsters you had temporarily hid under the rug.

Unfortunately, you learned that the monsters were not happy to be shoved aside.

******

Steve found you, curled in on yourself beside the lake, your bloodsoaked scrubs staining the sand. “Doll?” 

You couldn’t find the courage to look at him as he sat beside you on the sand, bringing you against his chest as you sobbed uncontrollably. 

A child. A fucking child. His tiny, vulnerable body bleeding out as you and Dr. Helen Cho fought to find the source of the bleeding. The memories of New York flooding back as he crashed, the flatline tone a barb in your skull. 

“There was nothing you could have done,” Steve tried to console you. 

You were a failure. You killed that little boy.

“He was already long gone by the time we brought him here. It’s on me. I should have checked the area before ordering Rhodes to detonate. I’m so sorry.”

It was your responsibility to keep him alive. Steve could try and take the blame all he wanted, but her eyes would haunt your dreams, not his. He’s not the one with her blood on your hands, infused with that little boys’. 

You were so overwhelmed, drowning in your grief and pain, that you didn’t recognise Steve picking you up in his arms and carrying you back to his room. Bucky looked up in surprise as his roommate barged in, you wrapped in his arms. 

Without being asked, Bucky left you alone, going to your room to pack you some essentials. Steve had no intention of you being alone. 

You become aware of your whereabouts, slouched in the hot water of the bath, as Steve gently tipped water down your back. “Steve?”

“Hey,” he said calmly and softly, his fingers caressing your cheek, “you’re okay. I’m here. Can I get you anything?”

Tears bubbled as you watched him closely. “I need you to help me forget.”

Steve’s sad smile cracked at your already obliterated facade before his hand ran through your hair. “How about we both try and forget?”

A burst of energy flashed through you and you pressed your lips firmly to Steve’s. His arms pulled you from the water, your legs instantly wrapping around his defined waist, as he expertly maneuvered you into his bedroom, his lips slowly finding solace in yours. 

He gently placed you down onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours. His touch was so gentle, calm and circumspect, a far cry from your last tryst with Bucky. He stood up and slowly undressed, displaying his perfectly toned, muscular body. God, he was beautiful. 

Steve took his time, determined to taste and explore every inch of your buzzing body, study every sweet whimper, mewl and cry before he took you. His calloused fingers were a beautiful juxtaposition to his soft, supple lips against your skin. You were a writhing, desperate mess when his mouth finally descended on your pussy, his fingers gently holding your hips down. Your hands immediately gripped his hair as he delved deep. 

If Steve had not been a patient man, a man in utter control of his emotions, he would have come on the sheets right then and there as you mewled, your fingers tightening in his hair. You tasted sweet and musky, and he couldn’t get enough. He could spend hours between your legs, holding you over the edge until you begged to come.

But tonight, you both needed to find your release. He needed you over and over again. 

He welcomed your hips grinding against his face as you sought out your release on his tongue. His grip on your hip increased as you came hard, silencing your cries in his pillow, his woody, masculine scent enticing. 

Your chest heaved as you sat up and pressed your lips to his firmly, tasting yourself on his lips and tongues. His hands cupped your cheeks, kisses heated, as he encouraged you to spread your legs and lay back with his own. You were only too happy to oblige. 

Your walls stretched to accommodate his slow entry. His movements were leisurely, cautious and painfully endearing. Sweet, poignant caresses blanketed the paralyzing self-hatred. 

Steve’s tender, almost lazy thrusts had you mewling and begging for more, his thumb grazing against your taut nipple before taking it between his teeth. God, you needed more, and yet your body screamed in satisfaction.

His tongue lapped at your own, keeping you from sneaking a glance at the monsters peering around the corner. 

With the strength matching Bucky’s, Steve pulled you to sit on his lap, his cock buried deep inside you. You rode him as his hips drove up to meet his. 

Henry had never been this athletic or amorous. Henry. It had been so long since you had thought about him. 

And just as quickly as he forced his way back into your head Steve was drawing your attention back to him, peppering your face with soft, messy kisses. His fingers deftly searched out your clit already swollen with arousal and drove you into the most earth-shaking orgasm, your cries filling the room. 

“Good girl,” he cooed, his thumbs lazily wiping the fresh tears from your face. When had you started to cry? 

He couldn’t see you like this. His concerned eyes searched yours, searching out the monsters lurking in the shadows. He was so close…

Steve cried out as you pushed him back on the bed and took his cock deep in your mouth. His fingers clumsily grasped your head as you hungrily sucked him, taking his balls in your hand and gently teasing them. It wasn’t long and he had you held against his hot body, swallowing what you could. 

Your skin crawled and your head ran a million miles an hour as he held you close that night. 

God, what would Henry think of you now? He’d be ashamed. His whore wife sleeping with two men. If only he could see you now.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem... husband? 
> 
> "It was your responsibility to keep him alive. Steve could try and take the blame all he wanted, but her eyes would haunt your dreams, not his. He’s not the one with her blood on your hands, infused with that little boys’."
> 
> Did you all catch that? 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind words. I love getting to read your comments.


	5. Quatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio discovers the benefits of an empty laundromat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading this. This chapter hit me hard last night and let's just say I got a little carried away. 
> 
> Do not read this at work. This chapter is very much NSFW. You've been warned.

The day had started so innocently, how did it end with such debauchery?

Following the failed surgery and your breakdown in the middle of the operating room, you’d been placed on mandatory mental health leave for two months. You had been deemed a liability. You were required to speak with an assigned performance management psychologist once a week, otherwise, your time was yours to ‘work on dealing with your stress levels in a more professional manner’. 

You obsessively cleaned your apartment, walked for miles and miles around the property, and had done your best to avoid Steve and Bucky. Neither of them should have had to witness you vulnerable and broken as they had. You were embarrassed.

You had respite for two whole weeks, smothered in your grief and guilt. Henry haunted your dreams to no end. The commonsensical beast in your head knew that his reappearance was a result of  _ their _ upcoming anniversary, but the guilt was raw and malevolent. 

He’d be so ashamed to see you like this. Lying to the psychologist about how you were honestly handling your breakdown.  _ Oh no, I’m sleeping and eating. No, I’m not cleaning the apartment obsessively. No, I haven’t been thinking about them.  _ He would tell you how unhealthy your obsession had become and to move on with your life. 

You needed to work, you needed to be buried in your work. You were just time. Time alone, vulnerable, unshielded from the monsters. Time alone with the monsters in your head, beating you down. The dark voice in your head constantly whispering.  _ Weak. Pathetic. Failure. Unlovable. Shameful. _

It was on the fifteenth night of your forced break that you snapped. The compound was claustrophobic and you couldn’t bear to clean the kitchen again. You needed a change of scenery. You grabbed the pile of laundry you’d been snubbing for some time and left for the closest town, taking your car. The compound had its own private laundry facilities but you did not want to risk bumping into anyone, predominantly Bucky and Steve.

The laundromat was deserted and you couldn’t have been more grateful. The closest town to the compound boasted a population of about ten thousand people, a post office, tavern, library, and the rundown laundromat. It was a far cry from what your life had been in New York. 

If only they could see you now. 

You watched the clothes circle, suds coating the colourful load, the gentle swishing of water comforting. Your hands clasped in front of you as you leaned forward, your arms resting on your quads. Your once painted nails were now chipped from obsessive nervous picking, the nail weakened from nervous habits. 

“Well, well, well, doll.” You shook your head in frustration as Bucky came into the cramped, beat-up laundromat. “If you wanted some space you could have just said. You didn’t have to leave town to get away. You’ve had us worried.”

“I’m fine Bucky,” you snapped, though your voice was so tired your frustration barely translated, “I just needed to get out of there.”

He sat beside you, closing in on you, his arm immediately pulling you closer to him, his hand sitting on your thigh. It was overwhelming, comforting, and you could slowly feel the bricks begin to erode. “Doll, you know I’m here for you. No matter what.” His lips softly pressed against your temple. “If you want to talk. Or fuck. Or sit there in silence and let the demons torture you. I will be there for you.”

You gripped his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “I know. I just needed some time. And space.”

He pressed your hand to his lips and you sat in comfortable silence, watching the machine spin over and over again. The warmth from Bucky’s body, the calming sound of the water turning, the clunky machinery struggling in its old age, it was comforting. You lay your head against his shoulder. 

“Oh my god there you are.” You both looked to the door to see an exasperated Steve, his chest heaving. He must have run from the compound, the whole twenty miles. “You’ve had me so worried.” He knelt before you, taking your face in his hands. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Steve, she’s fine,” Bucky chuckled. “How did you find us?”

“There’s a tracking device on the car you stole Bucky,” Steve said matter of factly, removing his hands from your face. 

“You stole a car?” you chuckled looking at Bucky. “You know you could have just called.”

“You left your phone in your apartment doll,” Bucky smirked, his eyes dropping to the buttons on your button-down. “You know, while we’re all here, we could make use of the place. But, only if you want to, doll.” You could only nod, unashamedly desperate to feel their skin against yours. Only Steve and Bucky could get you from the dry Sahara desert to the deep caverns of Easter Island in less time than it took you to say  _ fuck me. _

“Bucky, you can’t be serious…” Steve’s exasperation only grew. “We can’t have sex in a public space. What if someone comes in? We are public figures.”

“Okay, then leave us to it, grandpa,” Bucky chuckled, his fingers nimbly undoing the buttons on your shirt. “We’ve got some lost time to make up for and an empty laundromat to christen.” Steve scoffed. “It would be a crying shame if you did leave though. I wanted to see you eat our little princess out, splayed out on a machine.”

“I’m no princess, grandad,” you retaliated, your teeth picking at the sensitive skin on his neck as you pulled on his tight t-shirt. 

“The lady has spoken, Stevie,” Bucky drawled before pulling your hands off of his shirt. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told. Untuck your shirt from your skirt and open it up so we can see your beautiful breasts.” You bit your lip as you did as you were told. “Beautiful. Take off your panties.” You stood up and shimmied your panties down your legs and passed them to him. “I think you had every intention of luring us here. You would have worn a bra otherwise,” he said pulling you down onto his lap, his hard cock rubbing against your bare pussy. 

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you teased huskily, grinding against his clothed erection. “Who’s to say I wasn’t out of clean bras?”

“Because my darling princess,” he smirked, hands gripping your neck, “you are always begging to be fucked.” He salaciously ran his tongue along your tongue, Steve’s eyes burning in her periphery. “Why don’t you give the good old captain a proper welcome?”

You looked to Steve’s blown eyes and you knew he wasn’t going anywhere. Hand gripping the back of his hair, fingers threaded through his luscious long locks, you pulled him towards you and kissed him gently, your tongue playfully licking his plump lips. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it Stevie?” Bucky chuckled, his eyes blown with desire. “How about you two put on a show for me? Stand up against the washing machine doll.” You stood up from his lap, placed a salacious kiss to his lips and rested your back against one of the vacant machines. “Stevie, place her leg over your shoulder and show our princess just how much you missed her.”

And that was how you found yourself against a washing machine, Steve lapping at your pussy as Bucky watched on, his hands wrapped tightly around his cock, lazily dragging his hand over. Your hands gripped Steve’s hair and you could see your juices glistening around his lips as he fucked you with his tongue. 

You were a quivering, quaking mess, your legs shaking as he forged on, his hands stretched out against your lower back, his skin hot against yours. You must have looked a sight, skirt bunched up at your waist, shirt pulled open and your breasts hanging freely. 

“You’re a mess princess,” Bucky gloated, catching his lip between his teeth. “Do you want to come?” You couldn’t speak, long past the point of no return. “Come on baby, beg Stevie, or has the cat got your tongue?” You wanted to punch him in his perfect, gloating face, but all you could do was whimper pathetically. “Alright, Stevie put her out of her misery.”

One long swipe of his tongue against your clit sent you spiraling over the edge. Steve pinned you against the machine to keep your balance as you clung on for dear life, your cries bouncing off of the old, ugly seventies tiles.

You were floating as Steve rose and kissed you soundly. 

“You’re so beautiful.” His words were soft and wholesome as his lips explored your neck and breasts.

“So beautiful, princess,” Bucky crooned, his dark eyes locked on yours as he stood up and approached you both, Steve greedily lavishing your neck. “Do you want Steve to fuck you?” His teeth grazing your overly sensitive skin drew the mewl from your lips, your hands grasping his hair. “Anyone could walk in, doll. Is that what you want?”

“You talk too much,” you giggled and pressed your lips firmly against Steve’s who eagerly matched your veracity.

His blue, soulful eyes met yours, ripping the oxygen from your lungs as his hands came to rest on your cheeks. “We were so worried about you…”

No. You could not do this. Not then, not in the shitty laundromat that still sold fabric softener with more chemicals than Chernobyl and its yellow-tinged lighting. You would not let this blue-eyed, golden soldier near the thick foundations you had meticulously molded around your heart.

“Fuck me or leave.” 

Steve latched his lips against yours, his strong arms gripping your thighs and pulling you up. In one swift expert move, he entered you, fingers digging into your thighs. Despite your arousal, his cock ground along your walls. Your hand still gripping Bucky’s long hair pulled him into a greedy kiss, drowning out the wails.

But Bucky pulled back and your forehead furrowed with confusion. “Sing your song little bird.”

You threw your head back against the tired machine as Bucky’s fingers found your hypersensitive clitoris. It took little to send you over the precipice, your exhausted cries hurtling around the room. God, when had you last slept?

The stacatto of Steve’s breathe and grunts drew your overwhelmed senses back to him. The sweet, deep furrow of his brow as he neared his climax. His blisteringly hot skin burning against your hands as he held on for dear life, his speed and thrusts becoming sloppy. His woody, masculine scent emanating in the hot, humid air. 

The wind was knocked from you as he crushed you against the machine, spilling himself deep inside you. The desperate grunts spilling from his lips deafening before you pressed frantic kisses on his salty skin, your shaking limbs wrapped tight around him as he regained his breath. 

Steve finally pulled back and slowly pulled his cock from you, the sound was pure lechery, cum trailing slowly down your inner thigh. He kissed you soundly before Bucky pulled you from his grasp.

“That was quite the show, Princess,” Bucky’s voice hungry and desperate. “I know you’re tired but Steve deserves a show too and you have got me all hot and bothered. 

Steve held you close as Bucky straddled the bench, his cock standing tall, the whereabouts of his pants unknown. Unlike Steve, he held no shame. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to him, encouraging you to straddle the bench, your back turned to him. 

Steve mounted the bench, his cock hardening before you, and helped Bucky lower you onto his cock. 

It was all-consuming, after weeks of it just being Steve or Bucky. Sandwiched between their overheated bodies, Bucky’s thick length stretching your tender walls, as their hands, and lips tasted and explored. The very notion that at any moment someone, anyone could walk into that shitty little laundromat in the middle of nowhere was enough to fuel your raging desire.

Bucky pinned you to his chest as he came with a guttural groan, Steve crooning sweetly as he pressed soft kisses to your blazing, sensitive skin, his praises pricking at your walls like a fine needle.

God, you wanted to be good, you had wanted to make him proud. 

Steve broke nine laws racing the car back to the compound that night, locking you away in their apartment to relive that night over and over again.

As the months went by, your game continued and grew more daring. 

Behind the bar. The meeting room. Sucking Steve off during a conference call before he fucked you on the desk. Letting Bucky fuck you in the communal showers of the compound’s gym. In the hallway as Tony’s fundraiser raged on not thirty feet away. A threesome. With one soldier. Bucky watching as Steve fucked you mercilessly in the Quinjet.

And as the game grew more complex, more dangerous, the further you unraveled. Slowly, the bricks built high around your heart, your soul, keeping that part of your life safe, came crashing down in a blaze of glory. 

Years of meticulous digging and numbing undone by one invitation, a flight on a private jet and a date burned into history’s memory.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that little chapter. Next up will be an angsty AF ending. Don't expect a happy ending - winter has brought on the angst. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave a comment. I love them. I live for them. They really push me to continue. And of course, thanks for reading. I know this genre isn't for everyone, but writing this has been very satisfying. 🖤🖤


	6. Cinq

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut but a lot of sadness. Please heed the warnings.

It was no surprise to you to find Tony Stark sat on your lounge when you returned from your morning run, nearly tripping over your packed overnight bag. 

“Make yourself at home, Tony,” you sighed, closing the door behind you. “Pack my bags while you’re at it. Oh wait, you already have.” The venomous rancor dripped from your lips as you dropped your phone on the kitchen counter and went to the fridge. “I’d offer you something to drink but I’m going to assume you’ve already done that.”   
  


Tony scoffed, drumming his fingers on the back of the couch. “You can bite me all you want sweetheart, I’m just here to make sure you’re on that flight.”

You helped yourself to most of the bottle of water in your hand before slamming the door shut. “I’m driving down tomorrow.”

“We both know you’re not driving down tomorrow.” Your eyes locked, prepared for a verbal battle. “You were going to hide out in your apartment, drink the tequila you have hidden in your office drawer, and down in your sorrows while the rest of us celebrate the lives lost.” The vitriol bleeds from your eyes as you huff and storm to your bedroom. “He would want you there, Doc. She would want you there. Do it for them.” You stilled at the doorway, but could not bring yourself to turn. “I will see you at the car in twenty, Doc, or I’m going to come up here and drag your sorry ass down myself.”

Rather than risk a scene, which Tony was known to have caused on more than one occasion, you sulkily brought your luggage down to the town car waiting in the driveway, Tony sat in the backseat. 

The journey was silent, as you stewed in your anger and cowardice. You hadn’t planned on going back to New York for the anniversary, you couldn’t bring yourself to go back.

You watched the countryside pass by as you sped to the private airstrip. She would have loved it out here. All this greenery. The animals. A silent tear trailed down your cheek before you caught it with the back of your hand before Tony could see. 

You were pulled from your dark thoughts as the car pulled to a stop near the private plane. You reluctantly followed Tony into the cabin. Your heart immediately dropped as you saw Bucky and Steve talking to Pepper. 

“Hey,” Steve said brightly before standing up and pulling you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m not, I just…”

“Doc, shut up and sit down. You’re coming and that is that,” Tony snapped, his dark eyes locked on yours. 

“Doll?” You dare to look at Steve, his face riddled with concern and confusion. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know. You could feel Bucky’s dark gaze burning a hole through you. 

“She’s fine Captain Crunch. Sit your asses down or we are taking off with you standing up, we’re running late no thanks to this one,” Tony hurried them. 

You offered Steve a weak smile before you took your seats and you set off for New York. The journey, albeit fleeting, was tense. From the rear of the plane you could practically feel the questioning glances Steve and Bucky sent your way, their conversation hushed and obviously centred around you. 

Of course they had never expected you to be there. You had never attended the anniversary in the past, why would you be there today? They were aware you were living in New York the day Loki attacked, but that was the extent of their knowledge. You never dreamed that they would be privy to the demons hiding in your closet. What you had to live with since that fateful day. Days. What you had buried.

Once you landed in the city and had settled into Tony’s tower, you escaped the ridiculously opulent, suffocating building and spent the next few hours aimlessly walking, until you found yourself outside that fateful store. It was time. 

Purchase in hand you walked to your final stop. You didn’t need the ceremony tomorrow, no, you needed to do this privately. 

The grass was pure green, like out of a movie, the autumn leaves just starting to fall. It was beautiful, just like you had remembered it. And as though it was just yesterday, or you were a loyal visitor, you made your way to them. 

They were still perfect. They were still beautiful.

You knelt before them, placing the bear beside Amelia. Her gravestone untouched since the day you had buried her after the attack. After you had been forced to stay on that God damned ward as the buildings around you caved. As Henry and Amelia lay trapped under the rubble of his collapsed office building because she had been too sick to go to school and you couldn’t afford daycare or a babysitter because you were still paying off your student loans. Because Henry was too stubborn to take the day off of work.

The dam crumbled and you sobbed against the pristine green grass. You remembered holding her in your arms the day you had given birth to her, in the hospital where you were finishing your residency in, Henry so proud. You had worked your ass off the entire nine months of pregnancy because you were too stubborn to give up. Even when your back ached beyond recognition, or your feet had swollen up so much you had to go up a shoe size, you soldiered on. 

And beautiful, loving Henry. He stood by your side as you fought your way through medical school. Stayed with you when you found out the hard way that condoms don’t always work. Loved you when you were at your most stressed, most hormonal. 

You barely made ends meet, but you’d had a beautiful life together. 

God, he’d be so ashamed to see you now. Broken. Lost. Walls built so high, so deep that you would not let anybody in. Drowning in the pit you had dug for yourself.

That was until them. Two broken soldiers, playing games with your heart, head and body. And you had fallen for them. Hook line and sinker.

You sat on the cool grass until the sun began to descend and the temperature dropped. You silently promised you would do better, that you would try, bid them goodbye until you would return next, but you knew deep down you would never come back. The pain was too great. They were gone. 

You slowly stood up, your limbs aching from sitting for hours on end, and you turned. You were not surprised to see them waiting for you in the distance. You were disappointed that they couldn’t just let you be. They shouldn’t be here. 

You were frozen as they approached you. You wanted to be brave and scream at them to leave. Your heart ached though. You yearned for them to hold you close, make you forget. You were tired. How long were you going to be forced to carry the burden of their deaths? 

Warm hands held you as they surveyed the gravestones.

“Doll?” Steve was the first to break the dark silence. 

“Henry was my highschool sweetheart. We came to New York to go to college. I fell pregnant with Amelia whilst I was in medical school.” The tears streamed down your face as you stood stock still, fighting off the comfort their hands supplied. “The day Loki attacked I was finishing up a seventy-two hour shift. Amelia was with Henry at his office, she’d been sick, so I was going to collect her on my back home. The army came into the hospital and we were told we had to stay and take whatever casualties came in.”

That day burnt bright in your memory. Calling Henry to tell him you’d be late, to stay safe and that you loved him. “They were found in the rubble four days after the attack. I was still at the hospital when I got the phone call.” 

Their sympathetic hands, touch, kisses knocked down the final bricks around your heart. There was no turning back now. The repercussions of that fateful night months ago, the night Steve walked in on you and Bucky, they were nothing compared to the implications of this day. 

Your mind was a blur as they took you back to the tower. Pepper and Tony had retired to bed long before you entered the living quarters. 

Steve sat on the couch, holding you close as Bucky made you all hot chocolate. His thumb idly stroked your arm, lulling you into a false sense of hope. You spied Bucky searching in the cupboards, Steve closely watching you like you’d break. Perhaps you could find happiness with these soldiers. 

But you didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve happiness. You complied with orders instead of returning to your family. You could have been together. 

“Why didn’t you tell us about your family?” Steve sounded so hurt, rejected. “You could have told us.”

“But if I told you it would be true,” you confessed, the small, sad smile almost painful. “Today was the first time I’d been to their graves since the funeral. Tony asked me to come work for him not long after the attack. I know it was because he felt guilty, but it was an opportunity to learn from the best, to run away from my grief.”

Bucky made his way over as the silence settled, handing out the warm cups with a weak smile. He sat beside you on the couch and closed in. “Doll, you shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Like you deal with your crap on your own?” you asked incredulously. “We are three, very broken people who deal with our demons on our own. That is who we are.”

Steve slammed his mug onto the oversized coffee table and gently took your face in his hands. “We are not broken, doll, fractured yes, but we are good for each other. We are friends. We love each other no matter what.”

You frayed at his words, gripping the warm mug hard, caught in his stare. “You don’t love me…”

“Yes we do,” Bucky said, burying his head in your neck. “What we are, what we have, we’ve evolved. We love each other, you can’t deny that.”

You were exposed, vulnerable and hurting. They were like glue, trying to piece your shattered existence back together. But you couldn’t. You let them hold you that night, sandwiched between two men, two kind souls who had slowly ripped down your walls, the monsters now gnawing at you. 

They wouldn’t find you curled in between them the next morning. They wouldn’t hold your hand as New York celebrated the brave souls who fought Loki and his Chitauri army, or the lives lost that day. You wouldn’t be there when they returned to the compound the next day. They would find your apartment empty of what little personal possessions you owned, a letter of resignation on your dining table and a weak, pathetic apology letter.

You didn’t beg for forgiveness, you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve their sweet, kind, mind-blowing touch or love. You deserved to drown in your grief and self-hatred. 

You’d packed your bags in the night like a coward and ran off to try and start again. Start anew, away from the constant reminder of what you had lost that day. Henry and Amelia were gone and your heart was too broken to be pieced together. 

You started anew, afresh. You slowly rebuilt the wall, cautious of who you let in. You rediscovered your passion for medicine, for normal, safe real people. No Chitauri, no robots or aliens. 

You started to breathe once more. Henry and Amelia no longer haunting your dreams. You started to remember the good times. 

Your heart ached for your soldiers though. You missed them so much. You missed their friendship, their touch.

The months drew on, but you were not surprised to find two supersoldiers wedged onto the bench on your porch as you returned from your shift, the Texan summer sun scorching the air. 

“Hey doll.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking through this. This was angsty AF but super cathartic to write. I'm proud of it. It's very close to me so I'm super glad I could share this with you. 
> 
> Thank you for your kind comments, I have really enjoyed getting to read them x 
> 
> If you're keen, Sophiria and I are posting the first chapter of "Die Besessenheit" later tonight (Aussie time). It's a dark!steve rogers x reader story, think Almost Famous but fucked up.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're keen to hear the tune, this youtube video is of Horrorshow covering it for Triple J's Like A Version. It's the best.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1jST6cbFNI
> 
> If you have time please feel free to leave a comment. I live and love them like llamas. I really hope you enjoy this.


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